


Here's a lullaby to close your eyes

by LittleSlugLand



Series: Ah, the beautiful depravity and decay of living [10]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Original Trilogy
Genre: Anal Sex, Father/Son Incest, Incest, M/M, Possessive Behavior, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, Unhealthy Relationships
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-21
Updated: 2020-11-21
Packaged: 2021-03-09 20:20:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,409
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27661925
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LittleSlugLand/pseuds/LittleSlugLand
Summary: Zevulon survived another mission. He thought the worst was over. He was wrong in a way.
Relationships: Maximilian Veers/Zevulon Veers
Series: Ah, the beautiful depravity and decay of living [10]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1870993
Kudos: 30





	Here's a lullaby to close your eyes

Zevulon sighed. The mission went well, but the last explosion tossed him on the wall. He woke up in the shuttle with their doc grinning at him.  
“Commander, even hell didn't want you. Welcome back among living, “ she patched him like always and informed him casually “Concussion, boss. Be careful with stressful activities.” He rolled his eyes, but didn't protest. The smell of bacta and her shots put him on his feet before they reached SSD Executor. He had to look presentable or as much as possible. He shed the dirty uniform and changed into a fresh one, while cursing at every move. It made him angry to be sluggish with painkillers in his system. The officer's cap hid the bacta patch on his head. He checked himself before marching out of the shuttle ready to report in.  
  
Zevulon brought his team back again. The special forces, or rather the general's dogs, as they nicknamed his unit. They were dispatched, when something dirty had to be done. Zevulon was the right man for the job. He picked the right people, who were like him or worse. It depended, how one looked at it. He walked through the corridor and felt the floor swaying a bit. The injury was making itself known as painkillers were getting off his system. The post mission briefing was short like always. The target was dead. The facility was blown to the pieces. The rebels neutralized. The general ordered him to check up on the ship´s medbay, which was understandable, but annoying. He wanted to be in bed and properly cared for, instead he was sitting on the examination bed and being poked by the staff. They told him the same. Be cautious and mild sickness could hit him. It took him another half an hour to get to the officers´quarters. To the General. He punched the code and walked in. His father was sitting behind his desk reading. Zevulon knew too well not to disturb him. He stood in front of his desk waiting. His father was disappointed. Zevulon´s presence was ignored. The time was measurement, how much his father was annoyed. The General finally put the pad down, Zevulon thought it was like days. His head was killing him.  
“You got hurt,” his father stood up and walked toward Zevulon.  
  
“Yes, sir. The report was sent to you. It is a minor thing, but I was ordered to rest for next 48 hours,” his reply was all professional as was expected. He was not permitted to speak freely. He was the imperial commander and in front of him was his commanding officer.  
  
“Very well,” his father turned back to his table “at ease, Commander.”  
  
Zevulon relaxed and closed his eyes for a moment. The artificial light was too sharp. He was a fool to think, his father would not notice. He felt a strong hand on his forearm. He opened his eyes and his father´s face was mere inches from his.  
  
“Shower and bed, young man,” the stern voice gave no room for protest, not that Zevulon wanted to protest. He learned more than once his lesson about protesting to his father's orders. He was not in shape to endure reprimand.  
  
“The water one not sonic, Zevulon. And take your time.” The unexpected generosity was unsettling, but welcomed. He was stripping on the way to the shower. Zevulon knew how to show gratitude. He would collect his uniform later. The steps followed him as well as the soft sounds of fabric. The water hit him and he groaned under warm spray. The hands on his body were expected and welcomed. He leaned against his father and let him touch him. The innocent washing became a bit more daring as the blaster callused fingers moved down on his belly. Zevulon shook water from his eyes and instantly regretted it. It was like he just made his brain spin inside his skull. He leaned against his father to make the room stop spinning. He felt a wave of nausea hitting him. He hoped he would not be violently ill. His father was caressing his back gently and waiting for Zevulon´s nausea to pass. The strong fingers kneaded his shoulders and made him relax. Zevulon leaned against the wall and let the hands move from his neck down to his lower back. He tensed briefly, when one finger moved between his buttocks and started to massage his hole. Not breaching it, not yet. He groaned. It felt so good.  
“Fuck,” Zevulon whispered biting his lip not to moan. He was lost. He knew it. He faced death and pain so many times. He tried to run away. To get away from him. It was a lost fight. Nobody was like him. Nobody was like his father.  
  
“That can be arranged, but in bed,” the warmth of his father´s breath washed over his ear.  
  
“Yes,” he whispered. There was no point in fighting it. He knew it would end like this, it always did. He slowly turned around. The wide and excited grin on his father's face told him how he was lost. He returned back to his father´side. What was the point of arguing or fighting him anymore? He was a good boy and he knew when to spread his legs and moan prettily. There was no point to run away anymore. Zevulon was here and he belonged to him fully. He was broken by his father and rebuilt again by him. Zevulon stepped out of the stall naked and let himself be led to the bed. He crawled on bed. It was a better bed than his bunk. The mattress was soft and welcoming. He rested his head on the pillow. The towel on his body was rubbing him dry. His father started from his feet moving up slowly to his groin. He could not help himself, but moved his hips to the touch.  
  
“Lay down. You are hurt. I don't want you to be sick again. Let me take care of you, Zevie,” his father´s voice was almost gentle if such thing was possible. Zevulon felt his other leg was getting the same treatment and he was shamefully hard, when the towel reached his hip. He laid on his back. There was nowhere to hide. He fisted the coverlet under him suddenly nervous despite years of being like this in his father's bed.  
  
“Turn on your stomach,” the words accompanied with a pat on Zevulon´s ass made him roll over. He moved his hips a bit up, spreading his legs. The pillow was pushed under his belly propping him more up. He reached for the towel and put it under his face. The damp soft cloth soothed him. The drawer was opened and something was uncapped. He didn't need to look over his shoulder to see his very aroused father opening a bottle of lube. He closed his eyes, when he felt his cheek parting. The lube was dripping on his hole, cold and welcomed. The fingers were opening him up. Zevulon relaxed and his hips were making small welcoming moves. He knew how it hurt, when he was too stupid and refused to be loved. He learned his lesson by now. His father cupped his cheek and made him turn his face a bit to be able to kiss him. Zevulon opened his lips and let his father to deepen the kiss. Their tongues touched and Zevulon kissed him back. He felt a hand between his shoulder blades, making him arch. The first push was always making him surprised. How smooth it was to take his father´s length inside him. He groaned and rolled his hips up and down.  
  
“You are a good boy, Zevie,” his father whispered as he clenched around his thick girth. He wanted it to be over. He was too tired, his head hurt yet his body betrayed him. He moaned as his father bucked his hips upward in a perfect angle. The thrust shook his body as he was fucked into a pillow. He had to keep his father happy. He reassured himself and moved to meet him. Or else he would go mad himself. He came too fast and let his body be used for a minute or so, before his father rolled aside panting.  
  
“Such a good boy,”he heard and he was in a way.


End file.
